


Everything

by helens78



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Boot Worship, Dom/sub, Fisting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-09-20
Updated: 2003-09-20
Packaged: 2017-10-11 21:58:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/117552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Viggo knows how greedy Sean is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everything

Viggo's wearing his boots again.

Viggo doesn't wear shoes too often in the first place; when he's wearing boots, Sean knows what's coming. It's just a matter of waiting for Viggo to ask.

Order.

Demand.

Sean does his best to keep up with his normal daily routine. Weeding in the morning (with those boots peeking into his field of vision; Sean wonders what it would be like to lick the surface of those boots while they're planted in the midst of his ivy), laundry in the afternoon (while Viggo leans against the counter and has his ankle crossed over his knee; Sean can only imagine how it would feel to be kneeling in a pile of freshly-laundered, still-warm towels while Viggo crushes his face down into leather), dinner in the evening (Sean is tempted, ever so very tempted, to have an accidental spill of cream that lands on the toe of Viggo's boot, so that there's nothing to do but clean them up with one slow lick at a time).

But time ticks by, minute by minute, and Viggo doesn't ask.

By the time they're ready to go to sleep, Sean is antsy. He's also so hard he can barely walk. Viggo keeps the boots on while he brushes his teeth, while he strips out of his shirt, while he watches Sean undress. Sean strips down while Viggo is still in jeans and boots, and Viggo leans back against the bathroom counter and props his foot up on the edge of the bathtub.

"You want something?" he drawls.

Sean drops to his knees and traces a finger over the toe of Viggo's boot. "Yes, please," he murmurs. "May I clean your boots for you?"

"Since you asked so nicely..." Viggo grins. His eyes sparkle. "You realize you could've asked anytime..."

Sean blinks; no, he didn't realize that. Didn't realize that at all, but he files the information away for future reference, and bends his head down to rub his cheek against the inside of Viggo's ankle.

Leather smells so good, and the way Viggo's boot has picked up dust and the treads have worn down through endless walks on concrete just makes it that much better. Sean trails his cheek down to the toe of Viggo's boot, and looks up into Viggo's eyes as the tip of his tongue comes out onto the surface of the leather. Viggo's eyes narrow, but he doesn't move otherwise; Sean straightens his posture (really, he does this for himself; Viggo doesn't care that much about Sean's posture) and laces his fingers behind his back while he makes slow, delicate motions with his tongue, getting every inch clean, one at a time.

His tongue works into the spaces between laces, and covers the grommets one at a time. Up... and up... and up until he's nearly at the top of the boot, where grommets give way to hooks and Sean can make a subtle but predictable move to lick the top of the boot, where leather meets flesh, tongue swathing out to taste salt and skin and leather, combined.

Viggo's hand comes down immediately to grab at Sean's hair. "Greedy," he smiles.

"Always," Sean returns, eyes shining.

"Always wanting more."

"Hmm." Sean shrugs. And smirks.

"You can have more if you want it," Viggo whispers. He leans forward and puts his lips to Sean's ear. "You can have it all."

"I do have it all," Sean whispers back, eyes closing. "Got you, haven't I?"

"Come on. Let's go to bed."

Sean is quick and eager, to no one's surprise, and he stretches out flat on his back in the bed, legs parted, hand going down to caress his cock. He looks up at Viggo and pouts as Viggo leans up against the chest of drawers, not coming to bed just yet.

"What's the matter?" Sean asks.

"I'm thinking about how greedy you are." Viggo raises an eyebrow. "How much you want."

"Everything you've got to offer."

Viggo grins at the instant response. "Careful what you wish for."

"Come over here and fuck me," Sean counters. "Want you."

"I don't think so." Viggo turns to the chest of drawers and starts digging through the top drawer; Sean frowns, and his hand stops mid-stroke. There's a snap of latex, and Sean's frown melts into a look of confusion.

Viggo comes back to the bed holding a latex glove, a towel, and a fairly large bottle of lube. "You always want so much," he murmurs. "How much can you take?"

"I..." Sean's already added up the pieces and come up with an answer, and his eyes go wide, then darken. He sits up a little further on the bed, and reaches out for the towel. "That much," he breathes. "If you'll give it to me."

Viggo is already working his hand into the glove, and smoothing the glove over his skin. "You'd have to work pretty hard to find something I won't give you, if you ask for it." He raises an eyebrow in Sean's direction. "Ask for this."

Sean leans forward and takes Viggo's hand in his. He presses his lips to the center of Viggo's palm and tastes latex, and hums, pleased. "Give me your hand, love," he says -- quietly. Calmly. Clearly. He looks into Viggo's eyes, and slowly leans back on the bed, spreading his legs apart and canting his hips up.

"That's not asking," Viggo points out, but he's not really complaining; he's too busy pumping lube out of the bottle and getting his fingers slick with it.

"Would you give me your hand? Please?" Sean asks.

Viggo grins and looks up at him. "Yes."

He starts easy, with one finger pressing in; Sean lets out a soft _mmm_ of pleasure, and settles back into the pillows. Viggo takes more lube and adds the second finger, still easy. Then three, and Sean's eyes tighten; he lets out another soft noise, and Viggo strokes those three fingers into Sean again, curling them up and making Sean's eyes fly open for a moment. Sean forces himself to stay on his back, knowing the time's coming when he won't want to let himself arch up hard. He laughs, softly, and looks up at Viggo. Viggo is smiling.

"Love you," Sean whispers.

"I know," Viggo says. "Love you, too, Sean."

"More," Sean whispers. "Please."

More, then; Viggo gets more lube and adds his fourth finger, watching Sean's expression carefully as he presses all four fingers in. Sean has gone nearly boneless against the pillows; his arms are curled up above his head, fingers wrapped around the slats of the headboard. "Don't go tense," Viggo warns; he takes a breath and then works his hand forward, slowly gaining ground until his hand is planted in Sean to the last knuckle.

"Won't tense," Sean breathes. "Need you. Please, Viggo. Please."

Sean begging is one of the most beautiful things Viggo's ever seen; he wishes, sometimes, he could take a photograph that would capture that sensation. It's going to have to be on canvas, though; stilling motion and isolating that expression wouldn't give half the impression Sean manages to leave on him. Viggo puts the thoughts of Sean-based artwork aside for the moment, though, and pulls his fingers out; he adds more lube, a great deal of it this time, and folds his thumb in so he can go in again.

"Breathe," he murmurs. And Sean does.

Viggo's fingers work in easily up to the third fingerjoint; it takes gentle pressure, and a slight rocking motion, before they'll go in all the way to the knuckle, and Sean tenses, ever-so-slightly, once they get there.

"Breathe," Viggo murmurs again. Sean breathes in, then breathes out, and the resistance, slight as it was, falls away.

Viggo keeps going, then, pressing in with gentle but steady insistence, past the widest part of his hand, and then, _God_ , he can see his thumb sinking into Sean, can watch as Sean takes it, takes _everything_ , whatever Viggo has to offer--

\--the hard press of muscle gives way, very suddenly, to acceptance, and Viggo relaxes as Sean's body draws his hand in to the wrist.

Viggo whispers, "Breathe," one more time, but it's not only to Sean anymore; now they both need the reminder, both need to remember to relax, and breathe.

Viggo can feel Sean's heartbeat all around him, and his is in perfect tempo with it. His eyes close for a moment, and he steadies his breath.

"God," Sean whispers. "Take me. _Take me_. Please."

Sean begging again, and Viggo can't resist that. He's careful, and he folds his fingers down until his hand forms a fist inside Sean. Sean moans, openmouthed, the look on his face showing just how hard it is for Sean not to go tense now.

"Sean," Viggo breathes.

" _Move,_ you bastard," Sean growls, low in his throat, so soft Viggo can barely make out the cursed plea. And it is a plea -- they both know it, no matter how it sounds coming out of Sean's throat.

Steady, gentle rocking motions, then, Viggo's fist moving just a fraction of an inch in Sean, and it's enough. It's enough to brush knuckles against that spot, enough to make Sean feel as if he's filled, whole, complete. Sean's hand glides down his chest, and it picks up a fine, glowing layer of sweat on the way. He brushes his fingertips down the length of his cock and moans, head tilting back. "Please," he whispers, "fuck, Viggo, I can't bear it..."

"You can bear anything," Viggo whispers back, "for me." And he bends his head down -- very slowly, carefully -- and licks a hot, soft path from the base of Sean's cock all the way to the tip.

Sean cries out, and his hand digs into the bedcovers by his hip; he grits his teeth together and lets out another growl, and then he does tense up, muscles contracting hard over Viggo's hand as he comes, leaving white trails behind as he growls, tenses, and gasps for breath, over and over again. Viggo puts his head on Sean's hip and gasps, too, still in time with Sean, feeling warm jets splash against his cheek. He holds on 'til it's over, and when Sean's growls have gone to soft, plaintive whimpers, he presses a soft kiss to Sean's hip and lifts himself back up.

"Coming back now," he warns, and Sean simply tosses his head gently from side to side. It's not a 'no'; it's all Sean can offer.

Viggo uncurls his hand, first, and then begins the slow, careful process of working his hand free from Sean's body. He twists a little, rocks a bit, and Sean grits his teeth and gasps and pushes, working hard, trying his damnedest to help. It takes both of them to get Viggo's hand free, one fraction of an inch at a time, until Viggo can see his thumb again, until his fingers are sliding free all at once. Sean moans aloud once Viggo's hand is gone, and Viggo slips his hand free of latex and uses the towel to clean up his wrist, Sean's ass, the leftover trails of come on Sean's belly.

"How's that?" Viggo whispers as he sets the towel beside the bed. He climbs up and settles into Sean's arms.

Sean nuzzles contentedly into Viggo's chest. "Everything," he murmurs. "Want everything, with you."

"You've got it," Viggo tells him. He brushes a stray hair back from Sean's forehead and leaves a kiss in its place. "Everything I've got, and more."


End file.
